


Promises

by Blue_Butterfly00



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Butterfly00/pseuds/Blue_Butterfly00
Summary: London is a sex slave at a brothel. One client promises to take him away... but is it all it promises to be?





	1. Chapter 1

Moans and whimpers filled the room as the two men upon the bed moved and writhed their bodies together atop the silky sheets. The one on the bottom let out a loud groan as he wrapped his legs around the body above him, hooking his ankles together for leverage.

“Right there… yes!” London cried.

“Fuck! You feel so good!” the man above him moaned.

London grasped the sheets as his client, only known as Mr. X, touched the sweet spot within him once, twice, then three times before settling back into a slower rhythm.

London whimpered as the pace slowed, then pleaded, “No, faster… please!”

His client chuckled softly, but kept his slow pace. “Not yet… not yet,” he teased.

Mr. X obviously wanted to draw it out, but London was so dangerously close to the edge that he couldn’t wait. “Please,” he begged. His hands moved to grasp the man by the shoulders, as if urging him on.

Mr. X smiled down at him, then picked up his pace. Both men let out loud moans as their bodies moved together. London grasped his cock, eager for more stimulation. Mr. X moaned, telling him, “Yes boy, play with yourself for me!”

London continued pumping his cock, then Mr. X’s strong hand grasped his own and slowed the pace. Mr. X held on, slowly pumping their fists, producing desperate moans from London. Mr. X smiled down at him. “Moan for me, boy,” he coaxed.

London writhed beneath the body above him, enjoying his time with a client for once. Mr. X was unlike all the others, he actually cared about London’s pleasure. He wasn’t a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of client. He actually stayed for a little while after they fucked and cuddled. Cuddled! This was the fifth time that Mr. X had come to London, and London was always happy to see him. Every other client always seemed to be there to hurt London, to make him feel as much pain as possible so they could get their pleasure, and once that pleasure was received they got dressed and were gone before London could register the fact that the man had even pulled out of him. The first time with Mr. X, London had been confused at the man’s actions, he had never had a client stay with him, let alone cuddle with him. London had been stiff in the man’s arms, but Mr. X hadn’t seemed to mind. He had hummed contently, his arm wrapped around London’s tense body. Mr. X had stayed for about half an hour before announcing he had to go, and that he would see London again. London barely managed to say, “Thank you Sir”, his mind still confused, but Mr. X smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips before leaving.

London was brought back to the present as Mr. X started mumbling above him, the words barely audible.

“You are so wonderful London. So wonderful,” the man moaned.

“Thank you, Sir,” London whispered.

Mr. X moaned again, “So wonderful… want to take you home.”

London stilled for a moment. “Wha-. What?” he asked in astonishment.

But the surprise quickly dissipated and the statement forgotten as Mr. X hit his sweet spot again… His body felt like it was being pumped full of electricity with each pump of the full length of the man’s cock. London grunted, moaned and his body trembled in response. All he could do was grit his teeth between gasps of breath and begging for more while his eyes clenched shut. He could only focus on the intensity of pleasure he was feeling in his ass.

Both men suddenly went over the edge and came with a roar. Globs of London’s cum splattered his and Mr. X’s chests as Mr. X’s cum filled him. London felt his body slump to the bed, panting, sweaty, and spent. Mr. X was panting as well as he pulled out of London’s well used hole and fell to the bed beside him.

The two lay in the bed cuddling afterward, London content in the man’s arms. “May I ask you a question Sir?” London asked softly. Mr. X nodded behind him, his chin moving against London’s shoulder. London gathered his nerve, then blurted it out, “Sir, why do you stay and cuddle with me afterwards?”

Mr. X seemed to tense behind him. “Does it bother you?” he asked.

London shook his head. “No! Not at all Sir! I was just wondering the reason.”

Mr. X relaxed. “Is it so unusual?” he asked.

London nodded. “No one else stays. Just you, Sir.”

“Really?” Mr. X asked with surprise.

“You’re the only one, Sir,” London confirmed.

“Well,” Mr. X started, “I guess one reason is that I paid for your time, so I’m going to use it.”

London’s heart sank just a little.

“And the other reason,” Mr. X continued, “Is that I actually like being with you.”

London’s heart picked back up at those words. The words from earlier came forth, about Mr. X wanting to take him home. Could this man really be his savior? Could this man take him away from his life of slavery in this stinky, rotten brothel? London wanted to ask, he really did, but was too nervous to hear the answer. Mr. X had probably just said it in the throes of passion, and it didn’t mean anything.

The thoughts vanished as Mr. X hugged him close before sighing. “I’ve got to go,” he said sadly.

London almost sighed himself as the man’s warm arm lifted off him. The bed bobbed as Mr. X then climbed off. “Will I see you again?” London asked. He rolled over and watched the man gathering his clothes, a content look upon his face.

Mr. X smiled at him as he managed to zip and button his pants. “You know you will,” he said.

London smiled back. “Good.”

****

The next few weeks passed slowly. London had his usual round of rough clients, gaining bruises and sore muscles along the way. Mr. X had come back, but only twice, which was rather disappointing to London. He wanted to cuddle more with the man, talk to him… have an actual conversation with him. Being with Mr. X was the only thing making his time at the brothel somewhat okay.

London was sitting in the receiving room, waiting for clients to come through, when the House Master came up to him.

“London,” the House Master said. “You’ve got a client up in Room 17.”

London stood, his eyes lowered respectfully. “Yes Master. I’ll head up there right away.”

The House Master waved him on. London moved around the man and promptly headed for the stairs. The House Master was not a man to cross. Every slave within the brothel learned fast to follow the man’s orders quickly and without complaint. Bruises, black eyes, and broken bones were not worth defying orders.

London mentally prepared himself as he headed for Room 17. The House Master never told the slaves who they were serving or what kind of situations they may be walking into. There were times when the slaves found clients that were somewhat affectionate and gentle, while there were other times slaves had found themselves entering a room to find multiple men waiting, all ready for a hardcore gangbang and humiliation. Still there were other times slaves had found themselves entering a room to find a Dom fully dressed in head to toe black leather ready to tie them up and whip them bloody. Some days were better than others, some clients better than others. Another thing the slaves had learned was to just go with the flow and hope they didn’t end up hurt so badly they couldn’t work… because that makes the brothel lose money… and that makes the House Master very, very unhappy.

London placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He opened the door and quietly entered the room, his eyes searching for what awaited him. His trepidation quickly abated when he saw Mr. X waiting for him, a smile wide on his face.

“Hello Sir,” London said. “It’s good to see you again.” He smiled and headed for Mr. X, who leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Same here boy,” Mr. X responded.

London began to remove his flimsy shirt and pants as he moved towards the bed. Mr. X watched him as he removed his own clothes, haphazardly throwing him on the floor at his feet. London climbed onto and sprawled on the bed, lazily playing with his cock as he watched Mr. X undress. The man was very good looking, and London was happy to give his body to him. Mr. X’s cock was already at half mast, pre cum glistening at the tip.

London smiled as the man crawled on the bed and began touching him softly. London’s body instantly reacted, and soft moans escaped his lips. Mr. X smiled at the sounds, clearly happy his touches were bringing such a reaction.

London felt the man’s cock at his hole, the area already lubed and stretched. London whimpered, a “please” escaping him to urge the man on. Mr. X’s cock began to enter him, and London’ body arched in response as his eyes closed and a soft cry escaped him. Mr. X moved slowly, letting London get used to it, but London moaned for “more, more!”

Mr. X chuckled softly, then moved to take the man beneath him roughly, giving London what he needed. His hips snapped back and forth quickly, his cock making squishing sounds as it moved in and out of London’s hole, the slap of skin seeming to echo throughout the room. Moans and whimpers filled the room as the two men seemed to join as one. The two seemed to fit just right together, and it was something the two could never seem to get enough of.

****

It felt like hours later when the two men finally cuddled atop the sheets. London was beautifully satisfied, Mr. X having brought them both to orgasm at least three times. London hadn’t even known it was possible have sex more than once in an evening… but now that he knew, he definitely wanted to try it again.

Mr. X hugged him close as he sighed contently. “Definitely glad I paid for extra time tonight,” he mumbled. “It was well worth it.”

London smiled and squeezed Mr. X’s hand softly. “I agree, Sir.”

They lay quietly for some time before Mr. X spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?”

London sighed, not sure where this was going. “Of course, Sir.”

Mr. X waited a moment, then asked, “What brought you here? To the brothel? Why sell your body like this?”

London’s body stiffened. He didn’t want to tell the story, wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to tell it. “Um…” he hesitated.

Mr. X leaned up onto his elbow and looked down at London. He softly ran his fingers through London’s hair. “It’s okay if it’s an embarrassing story. You can tell me, I won’t laugh.”

London looked up at him, his face flushing. “It’s not that. I’m just not sure if the House Master would like me telling you.”

Mr. X’s face twisted into confusion. “What do you mean?”

London sighed and looked away. “Because I’m not here by choice,” he whispered.

Mr. X pulled his hand away, his body tensing before repeating, “What do you mean?”

London closed his eyes, his mind lost in the memories of how he’d come to be here. “I was kicked out of my house when I turned 18,” he said. “My father deemed me an adult and I could live on my own. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t graduated high school nor did I have a job,” he said bitterly. He paused to collect his thoughts. Mr. X stayed silent, waiting for London to continue.

“So at first I crashed at friend’s houses, but eventually their parents got tired of me mooching off them, so I ended up on the streets. Alleys became my homes, dumpsters my dinner tables. Then one day, maybe 6 or 7 months or so after leaving the last friend’s house, a man came to me… said he had a half-way house where I could stay. There were programs to help me get my GED, a job, etc….” London stopped talking, needing a few moments to gather his nerve to continue.

He sighed deeply as Mr. X softly ran his hand over his side, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, boy, you can do it,” he whispered.

London looked back over his shoulder and smiled at the man, but the smile faded as he turned back and continued. “Well, I accepted his offer. How could I not? He had a pamphlet to show me and everything. Showing pictures of smiling young people, holding books and posing in places of business. There were even testimonials from people who had been through the program. I saw all this and knew I couldn’t resist. It was the first time someone actually wanted to help me. So I got into his car and we ended up here. I was amazed at the size and look of the house, and couldn’t believe this man actually wanted to help me.” London stopped, a deep shuddering breath coming from him before continuing.

“But once I entered the house and the door closed behind me, my fate was sealed… and I wasn’t leaving through that door ever again. I was dragged screaming into the basement, where my training began, and… and…and that’s how I came to be here as a sex slave for the past three years in this rotten brothel.”

Silence filled the room as both men mulled everything over in their minds. London wondered if Mr. X’s reaction would be disgust, or would he tell London what all his first clients told him… “I’ll call the cops, get you out of here, promise.” They knew it was what he wanted to hear, but after months of pleading and begging, London knew their words were lies and he never spoke of it again. He waited impatiently as the man behind him didn’t speak, then finally turned onto his back to face Mr. X. “Well?”

Mr. X was staring off into nothing, deeply in thought. London watched as the man slowly came back to himself, his face unreadable as he stared down at London. “Interesting,” he finally said.

London searched the man’s face, desperate to figure out what Mr. X was thinking, but he only found himself surprised when the man pulled away from him and moved to gather his clothes. London sat up, worried what Mr. X might be thinking… or planning to do. “What are you thinking, Sir?” London asked. But Mr. X ignored him as he dressed. Heading for the door, he called out, “I’ve gotta go boy,” then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. X didn’t reappear for weeks. London was worried that he had actually gone to the police, or that he may never come back, or worst of all… that he may not actually care about London the way he had appeared to. But if Mr. X had told the police, what was taking so long? And what if they didn’t do anything? Worse yet, what if they told the House Master… what would that mean for London? His mind reeling with thoughts, London sulked around the brothel, bringing himself to the attention of the House Master, who threatened London with physical punishment if he didn’t “knock it off.” London forced himself to apologize and promise to behave better, which seemed to appease the House Master enough to leave London alone. But deep down London was in despair, afraid of what telling his story to Mr. X had/would lead to.

London was sitting in the receiving room, him and another slave the last available for the night, when the House Master told him he had a client waiting in Room 00. London was confused, he wasn’t aware the brothel had a room numbered 00. The House Master informed him that the room was up on the third floor, end of the hall, a place London had never been. This caused some trepidation, but he kept his mouth shut and acknowledged the information before he headed upstairs, his mind desperately hoping he’d find Mr. X waiting for him.

Hope fled him when London saw Mr. X was not waiting for him in Room 00. One of the more unruly clients, known as Fox, was standing in the middle of the room with a smug look on his face. London slowly shut the door behind him, wishing that he instead could run out of it and away from the man.

“Well, well little whore… we meet again,” Fox said with a smirk. He moved close to London, seemingly inspecting him with his eyes. “I haven’t had the pleasure of your body in a long time…”

“Hello Sir,” London replied quietly. He kept his eyes lowered submissively, waiting for whatever Fox had planned.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, London suddenly became aware of the room around him, and nearly turned and ran. The room was outfitted like a sex dungeon. The walls were covered with chains, ropes, whips, paddles… you name it, the room had it. A wicked looking bed occupied the room, clearly ready for restraining its occupants, with handcuffs attached to the head and foot boards. London, his mouth agape, felt his body start to tremble. This was not a room he wanted to be in… ever.

Before he knew it, London was on the floor, his lip throbbing in pain. London looked up in shock at Fox, the man’s arm cocked as if for another swing. London instantly cowered and covered his head with his arms, screaming, “No!” When no hit came he slowly lowered his arms and glanced towards the man towering above him. Fox stood there, a smirk on his face, glad he instilled such fear in London. London felt wetness running down his chin, and after touching the area and pulling his hand away, he saw blood coloring the tips of his fingers. He’s been in the room for less than two minutes and there was already blood… that was not a good sign as to how this evening was going to go.

Fox reached down and grasped London by the front of his shirt, making the boy gasp as his back was pulled up from the floor. “Heard you’ve got a suitor, whore. Heard you’ve got someone smitten on you,” the man said with a sneer.

London wanted to shout at him, “Yes! Yes! And he wants to take me away from here and assholes like you!”, but wisely kept his mouth shut. His eyes nervously flicked between Fox and the room a few times before lowering once again to the floor.

Fox gave him a quick shake. “That’s not how it works around here, whore!” he screamed. “Whores don’t get to ride off into the sunset with their lovers. They get used and abused by men like me… and then dumped like yesterday’s trash!”

Anger flooded through London as he heard Fox’s words, and he screamed, “I’m not a whore!”

Fox paused. “What?”

“I’m not a whore!” London repeated. “You can call me that all you want, but I… am… not… a whore.” His voice seethed with rage.

Fox sneered. “Where do you think you are you little shit? A nice five-star hotel?” he paused, pulling London closer, “No, you’re in a brothel, here to serve anyone that wants to use you.” The two stared each other down, before London finally looked away. He had said his piece, and there wasn’t much point in trying to say more, Fox would believe and say what he wanted.

London gave a loud squeak as Fox wrenched him to his feet. “Please!” London cried, his anger instantly turning to fear. But Fox just laughed as he grabbed, then shredded London’s clothes from his body. The tatters fell to the floor at their feet as poor London shivered with fear and the sudden cold.

Fox grabbed London by the scruff of his neck and pulled him across the room, making the boy stumble over his feet just to keep up. “Please, don’t!” he shouted. A slap to the back of his head made further protests die as he was pulled to a wooden X installed against one wall, and strapped tightly to it by his wrists and ankles, his back facing the room. London whimpered as he heard Fox leave him, as he heard the man pacing the floor in front of the wall holding the whips and paddles. He glanced over his shoulder a few times, but only saw Fox caressing various implements before moving on to others.

“What should I use, whore?” Fox asked.

London almost snorted out loud. The man didn’t think he would gladly pick out his tools of torture did he? “Please don’t, Sir,” he mumbled.

Fox laughed. “The crop perhaps? Hmm, maybe the leather paddle? No. How about the birch rod?”

London glanced over his shoulder again to see Fox had the birch rod in hands, looking at it almost lovingly. He had seen other slaves who had been whipped with the birch rod… it was a cruel instrument, and no doubt crossed the line into torture. A loud whine escaped him, and he pleaded, “No… please no!”

Fox smiled at him. “The birch rod it is then.”

London struggled in the leather cuffs holding him to the wooden X, but they held tightly. His breath came in pants as he struggled wildly, his wrists becoming red and sore as the leather cut into his skin. “Please! Please!”

“Struggle all you want, little boy. I love it,” Fox said, a smirk evident in his voice.

Then the first strike hit, and London’s mouth opened into a wordless scream, his breath and voice leaving him. Fox had not held back. Then the second and third came in rapid succession, and London found his voice again, screaming loudly to the rafters. He was sure everyone in the building could hear him. Then a thought hit him… this is why this room is way up here… so _no one_ will hear the screams.

After what felt like hours, but was only about twenty minutes, London hung on the X, barely conscious. He could feel the raised welts on his back and ass, could feel the streams of blood running down his legs. Tears had fallen and dried on his reddened cheeks. His voice was shredded, and he just whimpered and moaned as Fox returned the birch rod to the wall before returning to release him. Once released London fell as if boneless to the floor. His relief was short lived though, his body had barely hit the floor before Fox grabbed him roughly by the armpits and dragged him to the bed.

“Noooo,” London croaked.

Fox threw him on the bed, the boy screaming as his cut up back hit the sheets. Fox kept an eye on him as he undressed, but London wasn’t going anywhere, he could barely move a muscle at this point. Fox climbed onto the bed to straddle London, then reached over to the side table to grab something. London couldn’t make out what it was, but quickly found out as a large O-ring gag was shoved into his mouth. He grunted his displeasure, and meekly tried to raise his arms in an attempt to pull it away. Fox laughed at him and swatted his hands away. “Do I need to cuff you?” he asked. London groaned and made an attempt to shake his head.

Fox laughed. He grabbed London’s chin and forced the boy to look at him. “Look at you, such a worthless little cunt. You’re the perfect target for me to empty a load into, just a warm hole begging to be stuffed by my cock.”

London made a garbled response, and Fox laughed again.

Fox began stroking his cock, which was already hard and pointed at the ceiling. The whipping had done that to him, London knew. The man clearly got off on other’s pain. Pre cum dripped from the tip, and Fox ran his finger through it before then running the finger over London’s tongue. London hated giving blow jobs, hated the taste of cum, hated the feeling of it shooting down his throat. He made sounds of protest as Fox smiled and repeated the gesture. “What? Don’t you like the taste of pre cum?” He ran a finger covered in pre cum over London’s tongue again. “Taste it, whore. Get used to that taste… you will be experiencing it a lot from now on,” he sneered.

“Now relax, we’re just going to have a little fun, that’s all,” Fox said, then plunged his hard cock in London’s open mouth. London choked and made garbled noises, his strength slowly returning as he fought to breathe. His arms flailed and he tried to shove Fox off of him, but the man merely grabbed his arms and held them above London’s head. His fingers dug into London’s thin wrists, making the boy wince in pain. London’s eyes watered, and the tears ran down his face to wet the pillow beneath his head.

Fox moaned, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “Nothing but a nice warm hole for me, whore. I have to say, you definitely look cuter with cock in your mouth.”  
London tried to keep up with the grueling pace as Fox’s cock repeatedly blocked his throat and airway. He choked and gagged, making garbled noises in protest as the hard flesh moved rapidly back and forth over his tongue. He didn’t even try to participate, didn’t try to use his tongue to get the man off faster so he would climax and pull out.

London just lay there, a tool for the sadistic man to use.

“You are my dirty little whore boy. You are just an object… your entire purpose is to get fucked like the whore you are,” Fox moaned.

London stared at the ceiling above him, trying to block out the man’s words. He wasn’t just a whore; he wasn’t an object. He was a person, and Mr. X wanted him. He needed to keep that in mind, otherwise he would never get through this.

Fox’s movements were making London’s body rock against the sheets, causing pain to flair across his back. He moaned at the pain, and Fox laughed, probably thinking he was moaning from the cock in his mouth. “That’s it whore, take it all,” he said.

Hot, salty cum hit London’s tongue and slid to the back of his throat. He sputtered and tried to push it out with his tongue as the horrible gag was pulled from his mouth. “Uhn uh, none of that now,” Fox said. He closed London’s mouth and held his hand over it. “But don’t swallow just yet. Open your mouth, show me your mouth full of my delicious seed. Swirl it around with your tongue, show me how much you savor the taste, the texture, the feeling of having my cum in your mouth.” Fox removed his hand and waited for London to comply. He waited patiently, then watched as London opened his mouth with a grimace and swirled the cooling cum with his tongue. Fox smiled down at him. “That’s right. Show me how much you appreciate your reward, how much you treasure your gift, how much my cum means to you, and how much you want more inside you.” He playfully slapped London’s cheek.

London was close to spitting the cum from his mouth when Fox slammed it shut again. “Now swallow.” London reluctantly did so, battling with his stomach as it wanted to eject the nasty substance. He frowned before opening his mouth to show Fox it was gone. Fox playfully slapped his cheek again, then pulled the sore, tired boy from the bed.

****

Hours later; London had been whipped, beaten, slapped, fucked, and forced to give another blow job, and was barely hanging on. Fox was insatiable, and London was at the end of his rope. His body was exhausted, and he honestly didn’t know how he was keeping his eyes open anymore. He wasn’t even sure how Fox still had the energy to continue his tortures. Every inch of London’s body radiated pain. There was cum as well as drying blood flowing down the back of his legs, and dried cum and tears on his face. Bruises colored his body, hand prints from viscous slaps showed from his ass and cheek. One eye was almost swollen shut from being punched after giving a nasty retort.

Lying face down on the bed, Fox above him with his cock shoved in to the hilt, London felt lifeless as he bounced up and down on the bed, just a receptacle at this point. Moving hurt so much, everything hurt so much, he just _couldn’t_. “You need to learn, whore, I’m going to do whatever I want… and you’re going to do whatever I say. Now, take a deep breath. Your torture is far from over,” Fox’s statement brought no response from London. He no longer cared. Mr. X was all he thought about, and wondered if the man would even want him after this treatment from Fox.

Fox began fucking him fast and rough, leaning over London’s body as he thrust, whispering vulgarities in his ear, calling him names, asking him if he liked getting fucked, berating London whenever he cried out in pain. London could only feel relief when the man pulled out before finishing. London knew there was a reason, probably something he wouldn’t like, but nonetheless barely glanced at the man as he went to one of the chest of drawers and pulled something black from a drawer. He came back, his cock flapping in front of him as he walked, the hard flesh coated in cum and what was probably blood. London watched as Fox pulled the black thing over his cock, then moved to stand in front of London. He stood proudly, as if showing it off. A whimper escaped London’s throat as he realized what it was. Fox smiled wickedly as he stood running his hand up and down the double penetration strap-on. Both pieces were ribbed, and both would seriously hurt his already sore hole.

“Noooo! Please!” London muttered. His sore throat protested the use, but he couldn’t keep quiet. “Nooo!”

Fox leaned down, grabbing the boy’s hair and yanking it back. London’s one good eye was a mere slit as he stared up at the man. He blinked, slow and heavy, both eyes wet with tears. “Please,” he whispered.

“What’s that, bitch? I can’t hear you,” Fox said. “You say you want me to fuck you with this?”

London barely had the strength to shake his head in the tight grip.

Fox smiled cruelly. “I can do that, whore… all you have to do is you ask nicely.”

London moaned and tried to shake his head again. “No….”

Fox laughed. “If you insist.”

“Lu… lube,” London pleaded. If that thing went in him dry, it’d tear him up. “Lube… lube,” he repeated. “It’ll… tear me apart… please.”

Fox let the boy’s head drop and circled to the end of the bed. “Lube? You’re joking, right, bitch? I’m going to fucking pound your boy cunt, and if you’re still dry after all our earlier fucking, then blood will be my lube. Now shut the fuck up and take it like a good little bitch.”

London felt both tips of the strap-on touch his hole. He squeaked and moved to pull away, but his body wouldn’t obey him, he was just too weak.

Fox wasn’t gentle as he pushed the strap-on in further. London let out a guttural shriek, his eyes rolling up into his head. The last thing he heard before wonderful darkness took him was Fox saying, “It doesn’t matter to me whether you stay conscious. Pass out for all I fucking care. All I need are your holes.”

****

London came to with two slaves crouched above him. He found himself on the floor of Room 00, his body burning with pain, and a horrible stench seeming to surround him. “Ew, did he have to piss on him?” one slave asked. London was glad he had been unconscious for that part. “Shut up and get him to his room,” the House Master’s voice called out. London involuntarily tried to curl in on himself at the harshness of the tone, even though it wasn’t aimed at him.

“Yes, Master,” both slaves responded in unison.

London felt himself lifted unevenly from the floor, his body screaming at him not to move. He whimpered, his eyes shuttered as he watched the ceiling move above him. “Sorry,” one of the slaves whispered. One slave had his ankles, the other grabbing him under the armpits. The slaves moved slowly as they carried London out of the room and headed down the hall. Somehow London managed to keep silent the rest of the way to his room, even when the slaves almost dropped him on the stairs with mumbled apologies and harsh words from the House Master.

Once in his room, the House Master ordered the slaves to clean him up and get him to bed. Then they were to return to Room 00 to clean it up. The brothel doctor would be in to apply a salve and check London for any serious injuries. The slaves responded in the affirmative, and the House Master left. London felt himself being lowered into the cold tub of his bathroom, then warm water slowly rising around him. Then, as the slaves began to scrub him, he blacked out once again.


	3. Chapter 3

London was left to rest and heal for almost a week afterwards. The brothel doctor had declared he wasn’t torn or otherwise seriously injured, which was surprising to London by the way he was feeling. He left a salve and some gauze, then left. London was tended to by a couple of other slaves after that, the House Master looking on with somewhat of a smirk. Seeing the man was not angry about London not being able to work, it was clear the man had planned the whole thing. It was probably some type of revenge for Mr. X being so nice and offering London freedom from the brothel.

His first night back to work, London walked sluggishly and gingerly into the receiving room and headed for one of the more comfortable chairs. He was healing, albeit slowly, and his muscles still protested quick movements. The other slaves gladly moved out of his way, throwing sympathy his way because they knew just by the look of him who he had served days before. Either that or the news had spread after the first slaves had come to take care of him. London braced himself for pain before lowering himself to sit when the House Master arrived and yelled, “London! You’ve got a client in Room 4! Move it!” London grimaced before replying, “Yes Master.” He carefully stood again, turned and walked back out of the room in his slow pace.

Relief flooded London when he saw a familiar man waiting for him, and he couldn’t help but scurry over to Mr. X and hug him. Mr. X barely hugged back before pushing London away and looking him over. His eyes brushed over the greenish yellow bruise of his eye, and the scab on his lip. Weirdly, Mr. X didn’t seem surprised about London’s appearance. Maybe the House Master had told him before London came up.

“How are you?” Mr. X asked.

London shrugged and responded, “I’ve been better, Sir.”

Mr. X nodded as if that made sense, then motioned to his clothes. “Strip, boy.”

London was a bit surprised at his words, but did as he was told. Mr. X watched as his body was revealed. Again, there didn’t seem to be any surprise on his face, it seemed as if he already knew what lay beneath London’s clothes. His eyes took in the multi colored bruises and the welts and scabs on his back as Mr. X turned him around. Mr. X’s breath seemed to speed up as he took it all in, worrying London just a little.

“You’re okay?” Mr. X asked. “You’re healing well?”

London nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good, good,” Mr. X said. He paused for a moment as he ran his hand down London’s back, grabbing his ass quickly before letting go, making the boy gasp a little. He was still a bit sore. “Are you okay to…” Mr. X stopped as his fingers ghosted over London’s hole. “You’re not torn?”

London shook his head.

“Too sore?”

London shook his head again. “No Sir, not for you.”

Mr. X seemed to shiver, his eyes rolling back just a little before he collected himself and motioned towards the bed.

“I’m sorry for waiting so long to come back,” Mr. X told him. “I was away on an impromptu business trip,” he explained.

London nodded in response as he crawled onto the bed and laid down.

Mr. X began to undress and walk towards the boy waiting for him.

Mr. X moved London onto his hands and knees, a position that was a bit uncommon for them, but London didn’t mind. The two quickly came together, Mr. X sinking his cock into London’s waiting hole, both sighing at the feeling. “I missed you,” Mr. X leaned over and whispered into London’s ear.

London quickly forgot that Mr. X had been gone for weeks, and sank into the pleasure of their two bodies writhing together. “Missed you too.”

The two moved together, their bodies molding as if they had never been apart. Mr. X was gentle at first, then moved rougher, faster. London was amazed at the speed the man could move his hips, making their bodies slap together loudly. Mr. X’s hands began to explore London’s body, feeling the various bruises and welts, making the poor boy gasp and wince. Mr. X would touch gently at first, then increase the pressure until London would either make noise or ask him to stop. At one point Mr. X raked his nails down London’s back, making him cry out in pain. London glance over his shoulder, completely surprised at the action, Mr. X had never hurt him before. Mr. X apologized, but it didn’t show in his face.

They continued quietly, soft moans and whimpers filling the room. Then, SLAP! London cried out, his body freezing in place. Mr. X had slapped his ass! He looked over his shoulder in confusion, but Mr. X was still fucking him, his eyes closed and completely lost in his actions, paying no attention to what was happening. This, along with the earlier looks and questions, brought serious worries to London’s mind. Why was Mr. X so interested in his wounds, and why was he hurting him?

Those thoughts vanished as Mr. X pulled his cock out and then rammed it back into London, hitting his sweet spot hard. London moaned loudly, his hands grasping the sheets beneath him. He began pushing back on Mr. X as he moved, moving his own body so it was in sync with the man behind him. He fucked Mr. X’s cock as hard as he could, slamming himself onto it like a desperate bitch in heat. He wanted… no, he _needed_ it. He was sweating and gasping for breath, his muscles ached and his ass and body were sore, but he forced himself to keep going. The motions made Mr. X moan so loudly London thought the rest of the house could hear. His actions quickly brought them both to the edge, and they both quickly came to orgasm. In the midst of his own orgasm, London heard Mr. X moan, “… take you home boy.” Then Mr. X’s orgasm ripped through him, his cries filling the room as he moved his hips to wring out the last of his seed.

London watched in disbelief as Mr. X pulled out and moved to cuddle him like normal. He had to ask, he had to. It was the second time Mr. X had said it, and he just had to know.

“Did you mean what you said, Sir?” he asked timidly.

Mr. X looked up in confusion. “Huh?”

London repeated his question, then explained. “You said you wanted to take me home.”

Mr. X smiled softly, then ran his hand gently down London’s cheek. “Sure. I’d love to take you away from this brothel. Take you home where it’d be just you and me…”

London’s heart sped up. “Really?”

Mr. X smiled and nodded.

London’s hope for rescue soared.

****

A few weeks later London was still a sex slave, and Mr. X was still visiting him, although he had started to come nightly. His bruises from Fox’s visit were all but healed, his welts turning into barely there scars. Not much more was said about Mr. X taking London away from the brothel, although London never stopped thinking about it, especially when he had seen Fox the night before. The man had given him a teasing wave and smile as he headed for the stairs, making London shudder at the memories of that night. London had watched sadly as the chosen slave followed moments later.

“Sir, when are you going to take me away from here?” London asked as the two were edging closer to their climaxes.

Mr. X faltered a bit, but continued his pace.

London asked again, this time louder.

“Huh?” Mr. X asked as he threw his head back in pleasure and picked up his pace.

London arched his back as Mr. X hit his special spot, his hand reaching for his cock. He was so close, he just needed a little more stimulation to reach his orgasm. He closed his eyes as he ran his thumb teasingly over the tip of his cock, then began to pump himself.

His eyes snapped open when his hand was slapped away. Mr. X was staring down at him, slight anger in his eyes. London thought it was just play, and reached for his cock again, only to have it slapped away once more.

“Wha-?” he asked.

“Mine,” Mr. X growled. “You don’t touch it or cum unless I say.”

London froze. This was highly unusual. Mr. X had never stopped him from cumming before, had never even spoken to him like that before.

“I… I don’t understand…” he said softly. He stared up at Mr. X with wide, pleading eyes, whimpers spilling past his lips as Mr. X began fucking him harder. London needed to cum… he needed it!

Mr. X suddenly stilled and spilled his seed into London, his back arched, his moan resonating through the room. The hot fluid filled London’s insides, leaving him full but largely unfulfilled.

London’s hard cock slapped his stomach as the man moved his hips to wring out the last of his seed. London frowned, disappointed that he had been brought close, but not given his usual orgasm. He blurted out roughly, “When are you going to take me away from here?” He had to ask, seeing Fox had made him scared that Mr. X was never taking him away, and that he’s be in the hands of Fox or someone like him again someday soon.

Mr. X pulled out of London, his limp cock sliding out of him with a wet plop. He looked down at London with an exhausted smile. “Huh? Oh, yeah… soon boy… soon,” he finally answered, albeit distractedly.

London was somewhat miffed at the answer, and how weak the answer had been, but he still prepared himself to cuddle, turning on his side and waiting for the man’s arm to encircle him. But he was surprised when it didn’t come. “Sir?” he asked.

Turning over, he saw that Mr. X was halfway dressed. “Sir, where are you going?” he asked. This was highly unusual.

Mr. X spared him a quick glance as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Uh… I’ve gotta go boy. See you next time,” he said… then was gone.

… and didn’t return for almost four months.

****

London stumbled to a halt as he entered Room 15 and saw Mr. X standing there waiting for him. London wanted to say something, but no words would come out. Truthfully, he honestly didn’t know what to say anyway. They both stood quietly staring at each other.

Mr. X finally broke the silence. “Sorry, I had some things to sort out,” he said with a shrug. “Things to arrange at home and such.”

London nodded in response, and then started for the bed.

“Wait,” Mr. X called out, forcing London to a halt. “I’m actually not here for that tonight.”

London’s face scrunched up in confusion. Then why was Mr. X here? He’d been gone for months, leaving London so confused, so devastated, after repeatedly being told Mr. X would take him away from the brothel, and now he wasn’t here for sex?

Mr. X motioned for the door. “Follow me.”

London had no choice but to follow as the man left the room and headed down the hall. Where were they going? “Where are we going, Sir?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

Mr. X shushed him and just told him again to follow.

London’s heart raced as he realized they were heading for the House Master’s office. Why were they going there? What had London done wrong? Was Mr. X going to tell the House Master what London had told him? Was Mr. X going to threaten the man? Ask for him to release all the slaves? London wrung his hands before him as Mr. X entered the open office door and motioned London to sit in one of the chairs before the House Master’s desk. Mr. X softly shut the door behind him and then quickly occupied the other chair.

The House Master did not look pleased. London wondered if he should kneel on the floor, maybe he wasn’t worthy of sitting in one of the nice office chairs. At the very least maybe he should stand behind Mr. X to show respect… His body was on the verge of moving when the House Master’s attention finally turned from him to Mr. X.

“You sure about this?” he asked gruffly. London froze. Sure about what?

Mr. X nodded. “Absolutely. He passed the test didn’t he?” he asked with a wink.

Landon was completely clueless as to what they were talking about. He passed the test? What test?

The House Master frowned. “Yes, but you’ve never had a-”

Mr. X cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes, I know. But I’m ready.”

The House Master then shrugged, whatever he was going to say forgotten. “You realize how much money you’re going to cost me? He was very popular you know,” he stated.

Mr. X waved him off. “I’m sure you already have someone in mind to take his place,” he said with a smirk.

London watched the exchange between the two men, getting more and more confused. Take his place? What were they talking about?

Then it hit him… Mr. X was keeping his promise! He was taking London away from the brothel; taking him home with him! Then another thought hit him… that meant some other poor boy was going to be forced to take his place. London wasn’t sure if he could feel good about leaving if he knew someone else was going to be forced into sexual slavery to take his place and make the House Master money that he’d loose by letting London go. But then again, he was going to be taken away from this awful place and the mean clients who loved to hurt him, and be taken care of by someone who genuinely cared for him.

London thought maybe he should say something in protest, tell them this wasn’t right… but before he could voice any thoughts a loud thud and cries came from the hall outside the House Master’s door. The House Master smiled. “Indeed I do,” he paused as more cries were heard, “And I believe he’s here now.”

London listened as thuds, cries, and genuine sounds of a struggle were heard going past the office door. His replacement had arrived. It made London a little sick to think about it, but he tried to push it from his mind and not think about it. No matter what he said, the House Master would do what he wanted. And, if he said something to Mr. X, the man might change his mind and leave London here. Yes, better not to think about it.

London sat as the two men negotiated a price to be paid for Mr. X to take London home. Clearly the House Master still needed his money for London’s body. But was it right for Mr. X to essentially buy London? Wasn’t that just as wrong as being forced to serve at the brothel? Just like finding out there was a replacement waiting, this also felt terribly wrong. The price was going up and down, the House Master wanting more than it seemed Mr. X was willing to pay. London’s eyes widened as the amount went into the tens of thousands… and not 11,000 or 12,000… the  
numbers climbed to almost $100,000! Was he really worth that much?

The two men came to an impasse, and they silently sat watching each other, each trying to stare the other down.

“What’s he bring in in a year?” Mr. X suddenly asked.

The House Master paused to think. He then turned to consult his computer, as if double checking his information.  
London knew that records were kept, but were they that detailed that the House Master knew the exact amount of money each individual slave brought in? Finally, the House Master turned back to Mr. X. “About 25,” he stated.

London’s eyes widened in surprise. He actually brought in that much money? Then a sickening thought hit him… how many men had fucked him and used him to earn that much? He mentally shook his head in disgust. Too many… too many.

Mr. X nodded. “Okay, and he’s been here for what… three years, I believe?” he paused as the House Master nodded in affirmation, “So, that’s 75. I think that’s reasonable.”

The House Master seemed annoyed at the logic of Mr. X’s statement. He mulled it over, then finally nodded almost dejectedly. “Fine,” he said with a sigh.

Finally, the price had been reached, and London was surprised that Mr. X would pay so much for him. Because really, how was a human being worth money? So easily sold from one hand to another? London vowed to himself to return the favor in any way he could, even if it meant getting a job and literally paying Mr. X back.

A flimsy pair of slip-on shoes were thrown in his lap, making London start before he realized that everything was officially settled and it was time to go. London hastily put the shoes on, his feet giving protest after not wearing any for so long. Slaves were not allowed shoes in the brothel unless they were part of a client’s play… otherwise every slave always went barefoot. Mr. X abruptly stood, and the man looked down at him and asked, “Anything you need to grab before we go?”

London shrugged. “A few clothes maybe, we aren’t allowed anything personal in our rooms.”

Mr. X nodded and motioned for the door. “Don’t worry about them,” he said. The man mumbled something under his breath, something that sounded like, “You won’t be needing them anyway,” but London didn’t stop to ask for clarification.

They headed for the door, the door London never thought he’d walk through again. He turned back to glance at the House Master, who gave him a smirk as he watched them go. He gave a wave of his fingers as if in a mocking gesture, then turned on his heel and headed down the hall toward the basement door… where the training room resided. London shuddered at the thought of the poor boy who had been dragged down there, and what lay ahead of him.

Sunshine hit London’s face as he and Mr. X exited the brothel. Raising his face to better feel the heat of the sun and the cool breeze on his cheeks, London smiled. It felt wonderful to feel such things after so many years. He had never thought he’d feel anything like it again. He and Mr. X headed into the private parking area, London following close behind the man. They finally stopped behind a nice looking black Cadillac, and London waited patiently for the man to tell him where to sit.

Instead, he was surprised when Mr. X reached into his pants pocket and produced a set of sturdy looking handcuffs.

“Sir?” he asked softly in inquiry.

“Master,” Mr. X said, pushing a button that popped the trunk.

“I’m sorry?” London asked.

Mr. X turned to him and in a stern voice said, “There’ll be no more Sir, you will call me Master from now on.”

London swallowed thickly. “O… okay. Master.”

Then before London could object, his hands were wrenched behind him and locked tightly with the handcuffs. He looked up at the man before him with surprise, betrayal, and confusion etched in his face. This… this wasn’t right. He pulled against the handcuffs, thinking maybe this was a joke, but they held, painfully tight.

Mr. X… his Master… waved to the trunk. “Get in.”

“What?!” London squeaked. “I don’t understand,” he said, pulling at the handcuffs again, “What’s going on?”

His Master sighed as if annoyed and then grabbed London and gave him a push, sending the confused boy into the trunk. London fell into the space awkwardly, his legs flailing as he tried to catch himself with his bound hands. “Slaves don’t sit in the car; they ride in the trunk. And they should be secured properly when doing so.”

“Wha-?!” His question was cut off as a large red ball gag was shoved roughly in his mouth. “Mmph?!” he cried. He shook his head in an attempt to loosen the awful thing between his lips, but it was secured just as tightly as the handcuffs. He looked up at Mr. X imploringly.

“By the way,” Mr. X said with a smile. “I loved the video of you and Fox… and I can’t wait to recreate it when we get home, slave.”

Before London could react, he was engulfed in darkness as the trunk slammed shut above him. Realization of the situation suddenly hit him, and he now understood the smirk the House Master had given him as they had left. He understood what the men had meant about him passing the test, he understood why Mr. X had been so fascinated with his wounds after his night with Fox, and why the man wanted sudden control of his body the last time he had come to the brothel. Mr. X was not the caring man he had pretended to be… he was just like all the others London had despised serving.

London curled up on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest as far as he could. Tears started to fall from his eyes as the car started up, and then began to move. London worried that he had gotten himself into something far worse than he had experienced at the brothel… and wondered if he would survive.


End file.
